AN: I usually update my stories a few times a week but this one was recieved so positively I've been scared to update it and lose all those favourites and alerts. My characters are not always easy to fall in love with and my storylines aren't always agreed with. Have I lowered your expectations enough yet? Alright. Short chapter. Please keep reviewing.

EPV

I sat at a corner table drinking bad coffee, watching Isabella. She had great reflexes and she needed them, the wayshe kept bumping into things. "Go away," she stopped in front of me, "You're being creepy."

"I don't care," I looked her up and down, "I'm watching you. It's something you're going to have to get used to." An image of her kneeling, waiting in the playroom, tickled my dick.

"My customers don't," she put her hand on her hip. The uniform went up the slightest bit, revealing more creamy flesh I wanted to put my hands on.

"They'll never notice," I swept the room with my eyes, "They're watching you."

"Go away," she ordered, "Or at the very least buy a newspaper and pretend to read it." She went to the back. I would not submit to an order, let alone that of a waitress. I caught her crossing the street. A car swerved around her. She had the customary exchange with the driver and moved on. She spoke to her black haired friend in the diner across the street then came back. I went to wait for her by the car.

"Tell me what creepy thing you want me to do?" she leaned against the Volvo, not with her usual attitude. She slumped like she was tired, she probably was. I opened the back door and gestured for her to sit down. "After you," she stood wit her arms folded.

"Isabella," I held the door.

"Aren't we controlling," Sheputher foot in the ar and sat down then lifed her other foot into it. Who taught her to get into a car? I went to the other side and got in. She closed the door and waited. Her left foot was under her ass, and, more importantly, on the seat. She would have to be taught not to sit that way.

"Do you know anything about the BDSM lifestyle?" I asked.

"Oh it's like that," she laughed, shielding her eyes as like there was a bright light I could not see. "Cash," she looked me in the eye, "You think I'd let you tie me up on a promise?" she responded to the look on my face.

"You haven't heard my entire proposal," I informed her. She leaned back and gave me a look I could not understand. I felt a smile creep across my face. This must be what it feels like to look at Mount Everest. I needed that kind of challenge.

"Fifteen thousand dollars would be a monthly fee," I addressed what I was sure was the most pressing issue for her. She drew a sharp breath but said nothing, "I will buy your clothing, your jewellery, make-up and any other thing you require. You will submit to my demands eagerly. You will be on my arm whenever I appear in public-"

"Whoa!" she interrupted me! "Have you met me?"

"We'll have to do something about that mouth," I put my finger against her lips, "I'm going to enjoy teaching you manners."

"Okay," she nodded after brief consideration, "I can live with that."

"You'll have to live with me," her eyes widened as soon as I said that, "Usually I would require you on weekends only for training but you require a lot of work before that."

"Live with you," she ran her hand through her thick tresses and huffed.

"It's very comfortable," I understated, "But you already know that."

"Am I supposed to know you?" she studied me. I wasn't sure if she was joking.

"I'm one of Forbes most successful under thirty," I've never had to say that before.

"I haven't had electricity in the two room apartment I share in four months and even if I had, I don't own a tv. I have more important things to pay for, like food," she drew out the last word then she sighed, "One of Forbes most successful man under thirty. I'm sure there are plenty of women willing and able to satisfy your needs then."

"I want you," was as far as I would explain.

"May I use your laptop?" she changed directions. I gestured for her to go ahead. She googled me! Right there. "If you learn one thing from poverty," she smiled at my shocked expression, "It is that people lie, and lie well, to get what they want."

"I need you to sign a contract," I thought it the appropriate time to introduce that, while we were on the subject of trust.

"That would be a waste of time," she looked at me like I was crazy, "What would you do if I breached it? Sue me for the newspaper I stuff in my shoes when it gets cold?"

"I need leverage," I told her. Her statement forced me to look at her shoes. They were made for comfort and worn out. I could see how newspaper would fit in there, around her foot.

"Sorry, I've got nothing so I've got nothing to lose," she opened her palms as if to say that the air above them was all she owned, "I do need the money though but you already know that."

"You're a risk," I thought out loud. I did not need a scandal.

"You're a risk," she returned.

"You're nobody. You have nothing to lose," I reminded her, "Also, you overshare."

"I'm am nobody. If you dump me in the Mexican Desert not much of a fuss will be kicked up," she stated not even with a flicker of emotion, "Is this not how the balance of power works?"

"March yourself in there and quit that lousy excuse for a job. Don't bring a single thing with you when you come back. We're leaving now. I'll give you two minutes. If you're not back here in one then you're late," I told her. Isabella exited the car like a construction worker.

"If you ever cross me, Isabella," I warned, "I will crush you."

"I'm certain of it," she almost laughed. I watched her walk away in her tiny uniform, imagining her tight little ass pink from a spanking.

BPV

"Alice," I smiled sweetly, "My dear Alice," I held her hand.

"Whatever you're about to say I'm sure I do not want to hear," she backed away. I didn't want to say it. I was a coward and Alice didn't want to say it but she would never let me go. I kissed her hand and miraculously managed not to cry.

"Go to the public phone on the corner at one tomorrow," I instructed, "If I don't call you, call the police, tell them I got into Edward Cullen's car and never got home. If the police don't respond call a publicist, if none want to pay attention to you call a newspaper. I feel like I'm going to end up in one of those 'Put the lotion on or get the hose again' situations so don't forget," I cupped her cheek. She put her fingers through mine.

"I won't forget." she promised.

I kissed her forehead and a tear slipped past my security, "I'll be seeing you." I walked up to Edward's shiny Volvo.

"Get in," he opened my door.

I tilted my head up at him and said one word, "Bossy." This guy loved giving instructins. This was in line with what I'd heard about BDSM.

"Yes," he ran his hand down my cheek, "In the car."

I shook her head but got in the car anway. "Bella," Alice stood in the street. I let a curtain of hair fall between Edward and I.

"Drive," I instructed. He finally put the car into gear and started down the street. I watched as my best and only friend stood crying in the street. I closed my eyes to keep back the tears.

"Isabella," his hand hovered above the hand break, uncertain.

"Quiet," I said harshly.

"I'm the Dom in this relationship," he suddenly felt the need to point out.

"It's not every day I leave my only friend crying in the street to commit an act of prostitution. Give me a minute," I snapped. I put both my feet on the chair. There was silence till we came to the lights.

"Put your seatbelt on," he said in a quiet voice. I manage to slide the belt and click it into place without putting my feet down. I tried very hard not to cry as I rested my head against my knees. The fantasy girl does not have bags under her eyes. If I pulled off his fantasy during the trial scene our troubles could be over in a year or so. Instead of crying I meditated or reflected or whatever it is the woman two floors up taught us.

I tried to prepare myself mentally for what I'd agreed to. I reminded myself of what it meant for me. I would have heat and warm blankets. I wouldn't need a flash light to read and neither would Alice. I could help her save for fashion school. Guilt ate me up still. I was leaving her alone with Speedy Gonzales and Jerry. I'd get her groceries so she wouldn't have to eat junk and the roaches wouldn't be far behind. Ben could get into a great school. I just had to stick this long enough to finish college and get a job. Even my pipe dream felt it necessary to remind me that no crazy rich man stayed interested that long.

The picture would become almost beautiful before I'd remember that this man wanted to beat me. We lived on the streets for a few months so I knew what it was to take a beating. The bad news was I also knew how to give one. Something tells me if I hit Edward back I would be done for.

"We're here," a low voice brought me to the present, "The housekeeper will show you around. Take a bath and go to bed." I felt like a child being sent off. The sent off part was the highlight of that sentence, "She'll show you to your room."

I opened the door and walked into the house. "Behind me," he said in a cold voice walking past me, "You are not to look me in the eye in this house. You are not to question, ever, what I say in here."

I nodded and kept my head bowed. I looked at the house for the first time under my lashes. I did not see the splendour and the elegance of the beautiful white mansion. I saw a concentration camp that would strip me piece by piece of my spirit. Morbid attitude? Yeah, my glass has never been what you'd call half full.